


Loser/Lover

by Pansexualweirdo



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Crying, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Explicit Language, Fix-It, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Munchausen, Mutual Pining, Not Beta Read, One Shot, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier is a Little Shit, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, Teenage Losers Club (IT), Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-12 16:53:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21479695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pansexualweirdo/pseuds/Pansexualweirdo
Summary: "Richie unscrewed the cork on the sharpie, taking it between his teeth as he started scribbling on the cast. His cheeks felt hot as he wrote, a red V to try and compensate for the L in ‘LOSER’. This was definitely past ‘friendship’ in every shape and form of the word."Or; Eddie comes home to Richie after he finds out that his mom has lied to him for all his life and Greta has signed his cast.[[WARNING!!: This fic contains explicit language and mentions of mental domestic abuse.]]This work is my first contribution to this fandom, so please be kind. Enjoy! <3
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 8
Kudos: 146





	Loser/Lover

“Eds? The fuck are you doing here?” asked Richie, gawking at the wounded boy that stood before him in the door frame to his house.

Eddie frowned, his arm was bandaged and he held it tight to his chest, looking extremely guarded.

“Gee, thanks. Nice to see you too, asshole.”

He pushed past Richie before giving him a chance to reply and let himself inside his house, toeing off his shoes and then making a beeline straight up to Richie’s room. Richie followed suit. They had done this countless times before, shown up uninvited at the other’s house just to vent. It was basically routine by now.

They both sat down on Richie’s bed, although Eddie kept a few good inches away from Richie, who tried not to feel slighted. After all, it was partly his fault that Eddie was wearing a cast right now. Looking back at what happened inside the well house on Neibolt Street, Richie couldn’t fucking believe he set Eddie’s arm.

“I thought your mom grounded you?”

“Yeah well, she also lied to me about my medicine. I couldn’t stay in the house with her. Did you know all the pills I take are gazebos?”

As well as Richie tried to listen, to be there for his friend when he needed to rant, that made him crack an unintentional smile.

“You mean _placebos?"_

“Placebos, gazebos, Mosquitos, whatever man! She fucking lied! My own mother, for my whole fucking life!”

His voice was wavering, shrill and angry, and Richie had to restrain himself from reaching out and comforting Eddie. He was obviously still upset, and Richie didn’t want to make it any worse. His hands dragging roughly through his brown hair, Eddie exhaled a despondent "fuck," beneath his breath. Something inside Richie’s chest ached, every insult and retort he had ever made about Eddie’s mom suddenly felt 400 times more sincere.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Eds.”

“Am I _that_ much of an idiot? How did I never realize?!” Eddie nearly shouted (Richie was thankful his parents weren’t home right now or they’d be barging in to see what all the fuss was about) and he hugged his knees to his chest, his lower lip trembling and his eyes shiny with tears.

Richie grabbed his shoulders, meeting him where he was, broken and all, and almost seething with fury, he spoke.

“Hey! It’s not your fault! How could you have known? Your mom is the one in the wrong here, not you.”

Eddie became quiet. His shoulders rose and fell with his hitched breathing as he was pushed closer and closer to the verge of a breakdown. But perhaps, this time, it was needed.

“Look at me, Eds.”

So Eddie did. His dark eyes met his, and Richie sucked in a breath between clenched teeth.

“None of this is _your_ fault. You got it?”

After several moments, Eddie nodded. Richie pulled him into a hug, careful not to hurt Eddie’s arm but making sure to wrap his arms around him as well as he could, stroking his hands up and down his back in a soothing pattern. Eddie buried his head in Richie’s shoulder. Then he shuddered, then he sobbed, and Richie realized he was crying.

“Rich…”

His body was convulsing with each sob, his voice not carrying as he struggled for breath. He fisted Richie’s shirt in his hands until his knuckles whitened, all while Richie hushed him, hands gently combing through his hair.

“You don’t have to say anything, don’t worry.”

Mrs. K did this to Eddie. That monster fucked him up bad. And Eddie deserved so much better.

“I swear, I am going to kill your mother.”

That elicited a weak laugh out of Eddie.

“Not if I kill her first,” he muttered, finding Richie’s hand in his own and giving it a gentle squeeze.

Richie blinked in surprise at first, but quickly found his footing and squeezed it right back.

“You’re gonna be okay, Eds. I promise.”

* * *

The two boys sat like this for a while, hand in hand, limbs tangled as they hugged until Eddie’s crying subsided. Only then did Richie pull back, just enough to wipe his tears. A deep crease occupied Eddie’s brow, his eyes were red and a little puffy. Richie pushed away his hatred toward Mrs. K for hurting her own child this way and focused his attention on lifting Eddie’s spirits instead.

“Hey, don’t cry anymore, she’s not worth it.”

“She’s my mom, Rich. I- I still have to go back to her, e- eventually.”

As Eddie wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve, Richie caught sight of black letters on his cast, and he stilled, gently grabbing a hold of his hurt arm. Eddie froze as well, staring back at Richie with wide eyes.

“What’s this?” Richie pressed.

“N- Nothing! Let go of me.”

Eddie gave a weak tug and hissed when the other didn’t budge.

But Richie wasn’t about to let him go in a million years. He re-read the word texted out on Eddie’s cast at least five times, as if it would eventually become clear to him why it was there. It was just one word in capital letters. ‘LOSER’.

“Did you write this? The handwriting is too intelligible to be yours,” he lightly teased, trying not to give in to his anger.

“Fuck you.”

But it didn’t sound all that assertive. Richie lowered his voice, he put a hand up to Eddie’s cheek to guide his face toward his so he would have to look at him.

“Eds. Who wrote this?”

“It’s no big deal, Rich.”

“_Who_?!”

“**Greta**! It was fucking Greta! What are you going to do about it anyway? Beat her up?”

_I just might try,_ Richie thought. Eddie shook his head, slapping Richie’s hands away with his free one as he turned his body away from the other boy. There was despair present in his voice, seeking answers that neither of them had. Richie thought, while easing his breathing (in through the nose and out through the mouth), that he was the _only_ one who should be allowed to insult Eddie.

_Because he loved him with all of his heart._

Besides, he and Eddie, Bev and Ben, Mike and Bill, they were all the Loser’s Club. And that was _their_ thing. Not some shit pathetic bullies could use to label them.

“I don’t even know why I let her write it. She said she’d sign it and none of you did, so...” Eddie began, but it trailed off, turning into a huff of exasperation as he curled up in a ball, his knees hugging his chest.

His breathing was shallow, and Richie hesitated. This probably wouldn’t be the brightest thing to ask at this moment, but Richie Tozier was not exactly known for being bright. Besides, what Eddie said made Richie feel guilty as shit. He had thought about asking to sign Eddie's cast, but hadn't known _what_ to write, nor how to bring it up. In short, he was a pussy.

“Where’s your inhaler, dude?”

“Threw it away.”

“You did fucking what?!”

“Well, I don’t need it, do I?”

Richie felt helpless, he couldn’t do much to comfort Eddie, but he’d be damned if he wouldn’t try. He spotted a sharpie lying on his desk and got an idea.

“Hold on. I can fix this.”

When he let go of Eddie to fetch the marker, Eddie crossed his arms over his chest, the frown on his face ever-present, but a quizzical look in his eye now. Richie returned to Eddie to ask for his arm, and Eddie looked completely lost.

“What’re you doing? Writing something now won’t exactly erase what’s already there,” said the boy, and Richie rolled his eyes.

“Shut up and close your eyes.”

“Close my-?“

“Just don’t look for a few seconds, okay?”

Eddie reluctantly complied, looking away. Richie unscrewed the cork on the sharpie, taking it between his teeth as he started scribbling on the cast. His cheeks felt hot as he wrote, a red V to try and compensate for the L in ‘LOSER’. _This was _definitely_ past friendship in every shape and form of the word._

But it was the best he could think of to cheer Eddie up, and strangely enough, it felt right.

Then, as he was finishing up, Eddie went back on his promise and peeked, his eyes widening when they scanned over his cast. His skin turned an alarming shade of red, and Richie figured he harmonized with him pretty well, his face burning as the cork in his mouth dropped to the floor. He let go of Eddie and pointed an accusing finger at him.

“Y- You said you wouldn’t look!”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it!” squeaked Eddie back in defense, his hands coming up to hide his face.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck’ was the only thing going through Richie’s mind, so that wouldn’t aid him in speaking all too well right now. He ran his hands through his hair, scrambling backward, further away from Eddie.

“I wasn’t- I mean-!... It wasn’t _meant_ to be-”

“I- It’s fine. I was just surprised…”

Richie didn’t know if Eddie being just as flustered as he was made things worse or better, but he seriously considered fleeing from his own room and out of Eddie's life forever, move to Colombia or something instead of facing the consequences of what he had just done.

However, he managed to regain enough composure to face Eddie.

… From a distance.

“I- It was the only thing I could think of, dude. I’m not like that.”

Like _what_, Richie wasn’t a hundred percent certain of, but rather, he had this feeling he very much _was_ 'like that'.

“I get it, it's fine... It’s kinda cute. Thanks, Rich. You’re not _that_ big of an asshole after all.”

And for the first time today, Eddie smiled, a wide and unabashed grin that reached Richie’s very core and that made his legs feel like overcooked spaghetti. A laugh bubbled up out of him, part relieved, part overjoyed, although he tried to act indifferent.

“I’m not an asshole at all, the fuck are you getting at?”

“Of course not. You’re a perfect gentleman.”

Richie glanced over Eddie’s cast again to find that Eddie was rubbing a thumb over the V there, and subconscious or not, it was pretty fucking adorable.

“Yes, thank you!”

“You’re very welcome.”


End file.
